


Lies and Dance Lessons

by mytinywhispers



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 08:37:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3522710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mytinywhispers/pseuds/mytinywhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simmons is apparently going to have to teach Grif how to ballroom dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lies and Dance Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> (originally posted under my same name on another site)

Grif could have stayed in bed for hours. In fact, Grif would have preferred to stay in bed for hours. But there was a strange hovering presence next to his face that seemed to want his attention. He tentatively cracked an eye to see a mess of bright blonde hair and blue eyes staring at him.

"Four months," Donut squeaked in his face the moment they made eye contact.

"What?" Grif rolled over, wondering how long Donut had been standing above him before he had opened his eyes.

"You have four months left until graduation so when are you going to tell him?"

"Um, how about... never."

"Never? But you're soul mates, how is he supposed to know how you feel if you never say anything?"

"Ok first of all, how did you get into my house? Secondly, we are not 'soul mates' and third the point is that I never want him to know."

"First: I know where the hidden key is. Second: yes, yes you are. And third: what's so bad about your best friend knowing you want to marry him, ride off into the sunset and raise his adopted children?"

"I don't want to ride off into the sunset with him."

"But you do want to raise his adorable half ginger babies."

"It's 7 in the morning on a Saturday, why are we having this conversation?"

"It's not 7 Grif, its 11:30. Your clock is broken again, probably because you keep spilling soda on it. Also if you remember we're meeting everyone at the park at noon today because Simmons wanted to go sledding before all the snow melts."

"Fuck"

"So how are you going to tell him? I bet today would be perfect, the two of you rushing down the hill together, his arms around you and you whisper softly in his ear-"

"I'm never telling you about my crushes ever again."

They headed out to the park. It was the only place any of them knew with hills. Everything looked white and pristine but the tell tale footprints indicated that children had already come and trampled down most of the snow. It wouldn't last more than a few days. Most good things were like that. Grif had seen it happen over and over again. A good thing comes along, it gets worn thin, and then it disappears. He had developed a habit of trying to leave things in pristine condition.

So he sat on the hill and watched for a while as his friends went racing down. Simmons made his way back up to the top and seemed to realize that Grif wasn't participating with everyone else.

"What? You're not going to go with us?"

"Climbing back up is such a chore. I don't know."

"God you are lazy," Simmons rolled his eyes, "well fine then. I'm going to go for a few good runs, it's better not having you laying out on the slopes interrupting me."

His ears perked up at that. He never missed a chance to bother Simmons. It was one of the few pleasures he allowed himself.

He waited until Simmons had gotten himself situated on the sled before he made his move. The poor boy had this terribly mechanical way of moving and situating himself; like he was secretly calculating the exact position on the sled where he could find the most enjoyment. One he had settled in and lifted his feet up Grif jumped up from the ground and tackled into him, sending them both racing down the hill. There was a sting of curses which ended only when the two of them tumbled into the snow. The two of them lay down side by side not moving.

"I fucking hate you."

"Yeah you too buddy." They let the silence settle between them. Simmons still breathing heavily from all of the screaming. It occurred to Grif that he could do it right now. He could say it, put words out into the air and mean every one of them. It would be simple, easy, and done, "Hey Simmons?"

"What?"

"I have something I want to tell you." He really could say it.

"Did you do you do something stupid again?"

"Kind of yeah" his mind filled in the rest, I fell in love with you over and over again for years.

"Did you eat two entire pizzas all by yourself at a party again?" Simmons unfortunately could not hear the things inside of his mind.

"Ok that was one time and nobody told me that those were the only two pizzas they had ordered, who has a party with only two pizzas?"

"Grif, what did you do this time?"

"I-" he panicked, that shock read practically glowed against the snow. That pale face was relaxed eyes shut. There was too much trust there, so much that could fall apart in a few sentences and several mistimed words, "I have a date." Fuck. He'd fucked it up.

"A date?" he cracked a single eye open his eyebrows raised, "I don't believe it."

"Well it's true," no it's not, "We're going dancing." He said it with such gusto he almost believed it.

"You can't dance."

"I know that, that's why I'm telling you. I was wondering if you would teach me." This was the worst idea ever.

"Um, sure I guess. Do I know this girl?" there was a weird halting tone to his voice. Something Grif couldn't quite place. He seemed rather lost in thought.

"No, she lives a few towns over."

"What kind of dancing are you going to be doing?"

"That stupid one you do with girls."

"Your idiocy knows no bounds."

"I know that, so can you teach me?"

Simmons hesitated a moment before responding, "Sure."

"Really?"

"Yeah, how about we meet up at my place, maybe tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," Grif flopped back into the snow, letting himself sink down. He'd fucked it up again. He'd been so close to just saying it, and now he had some girl to fabricate instead.

He waited there as Donut came running over, and expectant smile on his face. But the closer he got the more it faded. Simmons wouldn't notice, but Grif did, and he felt his heart sink with that look.

And that's how he ended up in the basement with Simmons setting up music and with him rocking back and forth, barefooted and impatient. He watched as Simmons walked over to him. Both of them took a deep breath and stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments.

"So..." Simmons broke the silence first.

"So..."

"I guess we can start with foxtrot, it's pretty easy, even your lazy ass might be able to do it."

"Sounds good."

"So how much experience has she had?"

"That's kind of rude to ask isn't it?"

"I mean experience with dancing."

"Oh, well, A lot I guess?" he shrugged, "she didn't really say."

"Ok, so if she's used to dancing she's probably going to come in close. Like this," he stepped forward; Grif suddenly was struck with the incredible proximity. Their bodies nearly flush with each other, his face inches away from the others neck. He felt Simmons grab his hand and slide if to his shoulders his and then resting his own pale skin on top of his shoulder so gently he could barely feel it.

He tried not to breath; he tried not to move, not to think. This was close, so close, too close, not nearly close enough. He could close this gap easily. All he would have to do was tilt his head up ever so slightly and lean in. He wondered if his face was red. It felt like they stood there for hours, hips just barely touching.

"Alternatively," Simmons' voice cracked and he cleared his throat forcefully before continuing, "alternatively she'll probably think your disgusting and she'll stand farther away," he took a step back. The hot air that had been trapped between them dissipated quickly leaving nothing but a shockingly cold space in its place. "Ok, let me show you the steps. Put your left foot forward."

He pulled the two of them across the floor slowly, pushing Grif's feet into place with his own for each step counting as he went. Starting slow and then moving faster. Until the counting was even and measured.

"All right, you got that?"

"i think so," Grif still had no idea what was going on, but he had gotten the basic gist of what was supposed to happen.

"Ok, now we're going to add music."

"Is it going to be sissy music?"

"I don't know what you mean by that," Simmons stepped away and began fiddling with the speakers.

"Yes you do," he muttered under his breath and then groaned audibly when the music finally came on.

"This is what you're going to be dancing to, don't complain."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, reaching out to put his arms around him again. The music was awful, but this was what he signed up for, so this was going to have to do. He'd just have to try his best.

"You're the worst lead ever," after only 60 seconds or so Simmons was losing his patience.

"No I'm not," Grif was just trying to keep moving, it didn't help that Simmons' long legs kept getting in the way, or moving at a different pace then his.

"Yes. You are. You keep hesita-- hey fuckface stop looking at the floor it's not going anywhere."

"Shut up I'm trying to concentrate."

"Well you're concentration is taking away from your force. Try carrying your power in your hips."

"What?" he stopped abruptly, trying to figure out what any of the hints meant. 

"You know what fuck this." He took a step back, "Ok this time, you're going to follow, and I'm going to lead."

"What? No way."

"Yes way, you're really terrible at this. Let's try switching it up so you know what you are supposed to be doing."

"Ugh, fine."

"Hey you came to me for help. Remember that."

"Yeah, yeah."

He waited as Simmons dropped his hands and switched positions.

"Now place your hand over mine and step forward. Ok good, now place your arm on top of mine. Gently fatass, I'm not here to support both of us. Ok, now do you hear the rhythm in the music?"

"There is no rhythm to this music. It's Frank Sinatra."

"No, there is a rhythm. See?" he tapped his finger on Grif's back steadily. It was almost hypnotic. "Now pay attention to the way that my body moves"

He was way ahead of him there. He could hear Simmons counting off gently and suddenly they were moving again. Still a big gangly mess of legs and bodies shoved up against each other, but this time they were moving someplace.

Grif felt his brain slow as he tried to make sense of the person pushing on him, stepping towards him. His movements were jumpy, erratic, and unfocused, but at least he could remember how to breathe. He didn't want to admit it, but there was something about the fluidity of the movement that intoxicated him. He could feel a kind of force pushing him out across the floor, that didn't involve pressure, it simply existed. He silently swore to himself that he would never admit to anyone how much he enjoyed it.

"You know you're really terrible at this," and then there was Simmons ruining the moment.

"Fuck off."

"No really, are you even trying?"

"Do I ever really try at anything?"

Simmons muttered something about how frustrating it was as the song ended.

"Ok did you feel the difference? Do you see what you need to do?"

"Uh..." Grif tried to think hard about what had just happened. But he still had no idea what was going on. All of this feeling business seemed rather stupid, but if that's what it took, "I guess?"

"Good, now you're going to lead again. What foot do you step off with?"

"Left,"

"Right."

"Right?"

"No, correct it's the left."

"The left or the right?"

"The left! The same foot I'm going to use to kick you in the ass if you get it wrong."

"Oh, right."

"No, left."

"Right, the left."

"Fuck this."

They ended up dancing for another hour before Grif called it quits. His legs were aching and he collapsed on Simmons floor halfway through one of the songs.

"Stop being ridiculous," the red head kicked him softly with his foot.

"My body hurts, leave me to die."

"Do you really want to stop?" he knelt down on the floor next to him.

"Yes."

"Ok, but just so you know you're not good enough to take a girl out yet. You need more practice," he got up and walked over to the stereo and shut off the music.

"How much more practice?" Grif rolled over to look at him

"I'd say you need to come over a few more times... to dance," He kept facing the wall, fumbling with the CD player and putting everything away.

"Sure. When can I come over again?"

Simmons rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly looking off into space and thinking, "tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow works." Grif stayed on the floor for a few more minutes before rolling to his feet, breaking the silence, "I guess I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see ya."

His arrival home to peace and quiet was short lived when his phone went off. Signaling that his friend was once more hungry for gossip and juicy details.

"So... How did it go?" The breathless voice dosn't miss a beat. 

"It went fine Donut," Grif tries his best to downplay it. 

"Did you tell him?"

"No. I told you; the story is that I'm going out with a girl."

"He's not gonna buy that for one second."

"He already has."

"How was dancing with him? Was it wonderful?"

"It was... it was fine."

"You are sooooooo cute!"

"Please don't call me cute Donut."

"Sorry. So what's the plan now?"

"I suck at dancing, so I'm going back to his place tomorrow for more lessons."

"Good job! Keep pretending to be bad, so he'll have to keep teaching you."

"No, I'm like, actually bad at dancing."

"Riiiiiiiiight."

"What you don't believe me?"

"Well, I don't know Grif, but if you just happened to trip and fall on him while dancing, then I guess I couldn't blame you."

"That's stupid Donut."

"Is it Grif? Is it really?"

"Yes."

The next day wasn't much better. And after the two of them fumbled around for about 45 minutes it was decided that Grif needed more time to learn the delicate art of dancing. Although it was also agreed that he probably would never master it, no matter how much time he was given.

They had two weeks by what Grif had decided. And the two of them agreed to meet every other day to practice.

On the third day they met up Grif tripped over his own feet and fell on top of Simmons, pushing them both down into the floor. Simmons' face had gone bright red and he had sputtered and his voice had cracked. Grif apologized and laughed it off. He didn't try it again. Both of their tempos were off after that and they called it early that day.

The date of the fabricated dance was fast approaching and Grif was beginning to wonder if he would be able to keep lying like he was.

In any case, they had come to their last lesson together.

"All right you know the drill!"

"You know that sounds really awful when you say it like that."

Simmons just rolled his eyes and turned up the volume. Grif held out his hand once more and the two of them locked into place. Simmons finger tapped the beat gently on his arm. The space between them had grown smaller as time wore on. The heat between two bodies increasing. There was a moment of hesitation.

"Seriously, do you have anything else besides Michael Buble or Sinatra?"

"Shut up and dance fatass."

He could still see Simmons biting his tongue in frustration when he missed a beat, or when his body suddenly changed directions. But the harsh critique from a few days ago was gone. Their bodies moved more or less in synch.

"So what do you think?"

"You're really," he hesitated, "something." He concluded

"Something good?"

"Try not to push your luck," Simmons warned.

"Got it," he sighed and fell back onto the couch, "god this is exhausting."

"Not as easy as you thought huh?"

"Not even a little."

Simmons sighed and slid down next to him on the couch. His hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

"So," they made eye contact, "why'd you want to learn to dance?"

"For the girl, I told you that,"

"Bullshit, there is no girl," Simmons gave him a harsh side eye. 

"What? You don't think I'm capable of getting a girl?"

"Well yeah, but even if you did manage to ask a girl out, Donut would have told me about it."

"Well maybe Donut didn't tell you about it."

"Dude, that guy tells me everything about you. He's a fucking gossip whore. It's kinda creepy actually."

"Wait, he tells you everything."

"Pretty much, what he doesn't tell you everything about me?" Grif was barely listening at that point as it slowly dawned on him the reality of the situation. There was no way that Donut had kept a secret for so long.

"So you already know. You've known this whole time."

"Known what?"

"Don't play stupid with me."

"Whoa man, what the fuck?"

Grif pushed off the couch and grabbed out his phone. He had a few choice words for Donut. He started texting wildly.

"Wait, what does Donut know that I don't?" when he didn't receive a reply he launched himself off of the couch tackling Grif to the ground, "tell me!"

"No." Grif could feel the heat from the other body as it pressed down into him, hands shoving against him trying to claw desperately at his phone. He squirmed and rolled over onto his stomach, pressing himself down into the carpet.

"Fine, I guess I'll just ask him myself," he sat up on Grif's back and fired off a rapid text.

"Fuck no you won't," Grif shot up knocking Simmons over. The two of them struggled for a moment. Arms grabbing at each other as they each attempted to reach the others phone.

There was a beeping and Simmons pushed away to check the message. Grif lay huffing on the floor for a moment before looking up.

Simmons's eyes were distant, narrowed. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His face shifted to a brilliant shade of scarlet.

\----

Donut had been working on a physics problem when Grif texted him.

GRIF: You little shit, you told him didn't you? Why would you do that?

DONUT: I never told him anything, I never meddle in the affairs of true love. You should tell him yourself, I have always said that.

GRIF: I'm going to end you someday.

Donut sighed heavily and rolled his eyes for dramatic effect. What a baby. Over reacting as usual, and as was needed, he was going to get a solid helping of Donut advice. He started texting back, oblivious to the new message that had popped up on the screen while he was being dramatic.

DONUT: You love him, I know you do. And its destiny, I'm telling you, just kiss him already.

\----

Grif wondered in the moment what Donut had written. Simmons was a still as a statue, only his eyes moving slowly up to meet him. Grif could have sworn he saw him mouth the words, 'but how did he know' but before he had time to think about Simmons shrugged his shoulders.

"Fuck it," he leaned over suddenly catching his lips on the corner of Grif's mouth.

\----  
Donut looked it over a few times. Yup he'd fucked it up. Simmons text had come through and he had responded to it as if he were Grif. He reread the post

SIMMONS: Grif's being such an asshole right now. What's his deal?

DONUT: you love him, I know you do. And its destiny, I'm telling you, just kiss him already.

It certainly didn't make much sense in context, but he could always pretend he had meant to text it to someone else. Like Tex, or more realistically Grif's sister. He was going to get shit for this later though. He held his breath for a moment before texting back.

\----  
Neither of them heard Simmons' phone beep as a message was received and by the time he picked it up later it wouldn't matter anyway.

Grif waited for a moment before responding. He turned his head quickly, trying to dive deeper into the kiss. The movement was to hurried though, and he felt his nose smash into Simmons'.

"Fuck." Simmons pulled back, his hands over his face?

"You ok?"

"Fuck fuck fuck," he pulled his hands back and looked at them a moment, "that hurt."

"You'll be fine." Grif rolled his eyes and smiled. Stupid, overreacting moron.

"Yeah, it's fine, I don't think it's bleeding or broken or anything," He absentmindedly rubbed at it as whatever little tweak of pain he felt faded away.

"You baby, let me see," Grif reached forward and pulled Simmons' arms apart slowly. "Doesn't look bad at all," He leaned in slowly this time and kissed him again. Arms wrapped around him and pulled him in closer. Their lips slid over each other roughly and Grif became hyper aware of how soft Simmons' lips were and how chapped and rough his own were against them. They had no idea how long it was before they pulled away. Simmons' face pushing into his shoulder as he mumbled under his breath.

"Thank god you kiss better then you dance."

"Fuck you too," He stopped and thought for a moment, "How long have you?" He gestured between them.

"Awhile. You?"

"I don't know. Maybe forever?"

"Sounds pretty stupid."

"It is."

Their lips found each other again. His breath was warm and sweet; Grif could taste on his tongue and feel it in his lungs. He craved it desperately and found himself pulling him in even closer. Pressing their foreheads together and letting their eyes connect for a second. Simmons looked away, his face a bright red.

"You do realize we're going to have to tell Donut about this right?" And in that instant he broke through the moment. Grif shuddered remembering. He was going to have such a field day with this.

"Oh shit, let's give it a week, have some time to ourselves first."

"Maybe two weeks,"

"Yeah, but not longer than that. He'll get all bitchy about not being included."

"Sounds good."

He smiled. The next four months were going to be good ones for sure.


End file.
